Battlegrounds
by inthenightside
Summary: a masskink request to continue from where Continuing Struggles left off.  Renagade F!Shep has finished training as a Spectre, so there's no reason to hang around and fight with Saren anymore. Or is there?
1. Chapter 1

Shepard looked down on the training area below. They were standing on a observation platform close to the ceiling of a high domed hall, the stage below a close approximation of a vast warehouse with containers, crates and walkways.  
>From here she had an excellent view of the two contestants below who were hunting each other through the simulated terrain.<br>There was a display conveniently located on the handrail that allowed her to view the contestant's stats, vitals and current positions. As she watched, one of the two, a turian, was clearly setting himself up to wait for his asari opponent to come into range.

They were using training ammo, of course, and wore specialised armour that had a VI interface which kept count of simulated damage. If a combatant took enough damage to a specific part of their armour, that part shut down. With too much damage, the armour shut down completely, and the soldier wearing it very effectively went 'dead' and had to wait for the simulation to end before being able to move again. It was an effective way to simulate the effect of stun damage or explosives, and a good way to avoid disputes about whether a shot had been a proper hit or not.  
>Of course, close combat was still realistic enough, and training ammo or not, getting hit still hurt.<p>

"This looks like fun." Shepard remarked to Saren, who was viewing the proceedings with an expression that would amount to a slight frown in a human. He didn't answer. That didn't come as any sort of surprise, though.

Something had changed in their dynamics, presumably when she'd been granted full Spectre status, something she was at a loss to explain, and it hadn't been a change for the better. Towards the end of her training, they'd almost gotten along, despite all their fighting. In two instances had led to some more personal competitions, but that wasn't something she wanted to dwell upon. She still wasn't sure whether she even have wanted a repeat of that experience, but the question hadn't even come up again.  
>They'd had a rather stressful, high-risk mission that began as a simple investigation into a break-in into a high-security biotech lab and had turned into the uncovering of a full-fledged conspiracy. After resolving that situation with a liberal application of brute force, high firepower, trickery, a good display of tactics and a generous measure of pure dumb luck, Saren had declared in his usual charming manner that he had enough of training a human, and since by some miraculous coincidence that had nothing whatsoever to do with her ability she was still alive she might as well become a Spectre and be useful for once. She wasn't sure when she'd started to find his caustic remarks amusing instead of downright infuriating, but it had happened at some point, and she'd been quite amused at the time.<p>

Now, he was acting very different. He no longer insulted her, or made snide remarks, but he was also distant and in some sort of permanent bad mood that didn't result in direct violence as it usually did. She didn't miss the insults, but she had enjoyed their verbal sparring in a fierce, competitive way, and the sudden change confused her, because she didn't understand the reason for it. Maybe he was just irritated that she was still hanging around, even if that was his own fault. It would fit. Damned turian.

This trip here to Nabol had been his idea, not hers. That had been his condition, anyway; he'd declare her training successfully ended and over, she'd be made full Spectre by the Council, and she'd join him for a few days in the training facilities of Nabol.  
>Similar to what the Alliance did with Pinnacle Station, the Citadel Council kept Nabol, a small station in the middle of a very restricted section of scape that specialised for training Spectres and other specialists, as well as C-sec personnel. Sometimes they temporarily accepted trainees from other military associations from the Council races, as a courtesy, but that happened only rarely. It was the playground of the best, and Shepard hadn't minded coming here, really. It was always fun to play with the rest of the class, especially if one was the new kid and needed to crack a few heads in order to gain some respect. It was not as much fun to do that with a bad tempered turian in tow, though.<p>

She regarded the match in progress critically. "Are they any good?"

"Not really", another voice judged rather cheerfully, and Shepard turned sharply, annoyed that she hadn't heard the newcomer sneak up on them. Or, rather, newcomers, she noted with even more displeasure.  
>The one who had spoken was a dark-faced turian with elaborate white markings, wearing heavy armour in dark grey and blood red. His green eyes glittered with amusement at her, and she responded with an especial cold stare. She had heard his name before, and knew him to be a Spectre, too.<br>Just behind him, there was another turian, this one a female, with sparse yellow markings on a light grey face, her medium armour a shiny black with blue accents. She had some narrow metal bands around parts of her curved fringe in seemingly random places that looked like partially embedded in the spines, and Shepard wasn't certain whether those were ornaments or prosthetics as a result of injuries.

Both of them moved with a confident, competent air that spelled possible trouble to Shepard.

Saren hadn't even bothered turning around. "Hello Nihlus. Nysana." He seemed to be still watching the fight below. "You're correct. That's a lacklustre performance." He turned away and gave the two turians a nod.

Nysana was looking at Shepard in open appraisal, her fierce yellow eyes full of curiosity. "You're Shepard, the human Spectre."

"Guilty as charged." she replied, her tone cool. "I take it you're a Spectre as well?"

"Yes." The turian tossed her head back.

"How nice." Shepard stated. "It's almost a convention, then. Somehow I must have missed a memo, though, so what's the appropriate protocol for that? Getting together in some pub, lots of drinks, brawling optional?"

Nysana laughed. "That's a possibility." She nodded her head into the direction on the training area. "Or we can go for a few rounds down there." She tossed her head again, and Shepard knew that expression from Saren. Challenge. "Nihlus and me, we're set up for a short bout with a squad of military trying out for C-sec, but later on the area should be free. So how about it?"

Shepard stared at her, then started to smile. "I'm game if you are. Just tell me the rules."

The turian's expression shifted into something Shepard would have been ready to bet was something similar to her own. "There are rules?" she enquired, with an undertone of polite surprise. "I wasn't aware of that."

Saren gave a warning hiss. "Shepard."

He refrained from saying anything more, but he should have known better. Shepard just never had learned to back down from anything and wasn't going to start now.  
>"Deal." she told Nysana.<p>

Saren just shook his head.

Nihlus chuckled. "So, Saren. Are you running with the human Spectre now?"

Shepard turned around to face him, a sharp reply already on the tip of her tongue, but Saren was already shaking his head. "No, of course not. Shepard's here for some training, that's all."  
>His tone was calm, dismissive, and Shepard decided not to comment after all.<p>

Nysana looked downwards, then addressed her companion. "Come on, Nihlus. Looks like those two are finally done, and the field is clear for us."

The dark-faced turian chuckled again. "Fair enough. We'll see you later."

Saren waited until the slightly clicking footsteps of the two other Spectres had faded away, then gave Shepard a look.

"What?" she asked, automatically defensively.

"You might want to watch them in action."

"By that I assume you are trying to imply that I'm in trouble."

He didn't even dignify that with an answer.

She took her place beside him and for once followed his advice.

After a while, she cautiously said. "Uh-oh."

"Indeed."

Shepard shook her head, amazed at what she was seeing. Those two weren't just good, they were damned amazing. They had a dozen military against them, competent ones, not just grunts, and they walked through that resistance like nothing. It was clear from their tactics that they were very much used to each other's tricks, but even so...  
>"Did you see that? He didn't even look to see what's on his left when he went for that soldier over there. How can he leave himself that open?"<p>

"Nysana's on that side. He doesn't need to check, he knows she's there. He can spend that time for something more useful."

They both watched as Nihlus took out another soldier in close combat, sketching a blow that, if it had been a real fight and he'd allow it to connect, would have taken the unfortunate wretch's throat out. As it was, the soldier obediently dropped down and played dead, although she thought she heard him cursing.

"That's a very risky thing to do. Depending on your partner is one thing, but that's taking things a bit too far. It's foolish, he can't know that she's there, and alert, and on top of things."  
>Saren didn't reply, and she continued."That sort of trust is pretty to look at, sure, but it's going to get him killed some day." She shook her head. "I don't think any human would ever be stupid enough to do this."<p>

"You probably are correct." Saren stated, his tone uncharacteristically mild, which usually meant he was angry. "If you are still taking suggestions from someone no longer your superior, however, I'd recommend watching Nysana."

He did have a point, she had to grudgingly admit, and it didn't improve her mood any, especially as she very well knew she was in trouble here.

"How would you measure up to the two of them?" she asked, as she watched Nysana go into close combat with yet another turian. That woman moved like a damned velociraptor, she thought with grudging admiration. She seemed faster than her fellow Spectre, and the more aggressive of the two.

Saren shrugged. "In training, like this, one-on-one I can take down either, and in fact have done that before. Against both, I wouldn't stand much of a chance. As you see, they're used to fighting as a team, and they're both very good at it. I couldn't disable either of them fast enough without injuring them seriously."  
>She raised an eyebrow. "In a training fight, you mean. What about if it were for real?"<p>

He shrugged again. "I don't know. It depends on luck and the exact situation, of course, but odds would be that it would end up with one of them and me dead on the ground, and the remaining one in very bad shape. Not that that is likely to happen anytime soon. We're on the same side. And Nihlus was my trainee, once."

She hadn't known, but refrained from commenting on that.  
>"Right." She looked at the turian woman again. "Any advice regarding that?"<p>

He thought about it for a moment. "Don't get into a shooting match with her, her aim's better than yours. Set an ambush, or rather, several, with explosives, maybe stun. If that fails, which is a likely possibility, and you try close combat, remember that she's somewhat fond of using her claws, and her gauntlets have reinforced edges that match her natural claws. She has better reflexes than you, but she's got a bit of a temper, which makes her vulnerable to being distracted when her pride is challenged, so taunts may work well on her. Compared to you she's lacking imagination, which means she can be surprised by unusual tactics. That's where your strength lies, so try to use that against her."

Shepard blinked, then nodded.

"Oh, and Shepard?" He wasn't even looking at her. "It's no concern of mine if your habit of talking before thinking gets you into trouble once again, but don't even think of challenging the two of them at the same time and dragging me into that. Or accepting the challenge if they happen to come up with the same bright idea."

"Of course not. The thought has never crossed my mind." she lied, probably not very convincingly, as she turned away from the handrail to make her way down to the training ground.


	2. Chapter 2

It was considerable time later when Shepard made her way back to the quarters they'd been assigned for the duration of their stay here. She was sharing rooms with Saren again, but things could have been worse. At least they had separate bedrooms, which spared her listening to the creepy turian version of a snore that he did. Or pretended to; she still hadn't decided whether this was something he did merely to get on her nerves or not.

Going against Nysana had been fun. It hadn't been quite an all-out fight, of course, but it had been close enough to make her feel alive, alert, simply herself. That probably wasn't quite normal, she supposed, but it was the way she was wired, and that was how things were. The fight had been a draw, more or less, because technically both of them had to be considered dead, but that hadn't kept either of them from continuing to try and beat the hell out of each other. It had been in good fun, though, and they'd even stopped a few times to repeat a move unfamiliar to the other, or demonstrate an alternative counter move.  
>Nysana was fast as a snake and smart, and confident without being arrogant. She had underestimated Shepard first, on account of Shepard being human, but had quickly enough revised that estimation.<p>

They had both walked away from that practice fight with some minor aches and a new-found appreciation for each other's abilities.  
>She found that she liked the turian woman well enough, something she wouldn't have expected to. Maybe there was some truth in the fact that given they all were Spectres, there were enough similarities that they could get along.<br>In any case, it had been a worthy fight.  
>Once she had time to look around again, though, Saren had disappeared from his observation point. Probably been gone a long time, too, she thought. It irked her a bit that he hadn't even stayed to watch, although she couldn't really say why.<p>

Once back in her quarters, she got out of her armour and headed for the shower.  
>The hot water did ease her aches somewhat, even if her skin showed some spectacular bruises. She didn't react as she heard movement outside, and then the sound of the door and familiar clicking footsteps.<br>She probably should have locked the door, but in the past that hadn't worked to keep him away if he got it into his bony head to talk to her.  
>It wasn't the first time he'd walked in on her while she was under a shower. It was a habit she simply couldn't break him out of. She'd tried throwing things, cursing at him, dousing him with cold water, everything short of actual violence. It hadn't worked, much. He might understand the theory of decency and manners, but he regarded those as very low priority. It wasn't completely his fault, though. As far as she knew, turians weren't bothered about nudity at all and found the human concept of modesty in that regard extremely amusing.<br>She didn't bother turning around to look at him, though.

"You're still in one piece, and I can see no open wounds." Saren stated. "That comes as something of a surprise."

Shepard snorted. "Were you hoping for a different outcome?"

"No, but I considered it a distinct possibility. Anyway, you're no longer my responsibility, so whatever you choose to do to yourself is fine with me."

"Glad to hear it." she snapped. She finally turned around, giving him an irritated look. "Was there anything else you wanted?"

He tossed his head up. "Not in particular, no."

Shepard snorted again, and turned away, and only when she heard the door again indicating that he'd left she vaguely wondered what the hell he'd wanted in the first place.

When she was back in the small living room, dressed in a set of rather unspectacular civilian clothing, she found him at the extranet terminal, apparently busy, though she couldn't have said what it was he was doing.  
>"Nysana said she and Nihlus would be at some local watering hole around here this evening. Want to join us?"<p>

"Thanks, I'll decline." He didn't even look up.

Shepard shrugged. "Suit yourself."

She turned to leave, when she remembered something.

"What did Nihlus mean when he asked whether we're running together?" she asked, and knew she had scored some hit when he very slightly flinched. "I thought it was some sort of euphemism for being lovers or something like that, but I think I was wrong."

"It has nothing to do with that." he replied, calm, finally looking at her. "He meant to ask whether we're a permanent team, that was all."

Shepard cocked her head to one side, a habit she'd picked up from him. "That's all?"

He didn't quite meet her eyes, which was new, too. "Mostly." He waved a hand dismissively. "It's a cultural thing, and I don't expect you to understand. It's not important."  
>She nodded, acquiescent enough, but she filed this away for later on. She didn't have much basis for comparison, but she was rather certain he had just lied to her, or at least severely mutilated the truth. She was missing something here, and she hated that. There was no use in confronting him directly. That approach had never ended well in past experience.<p>

With another shrug, she left.


	3. Chapter 3

They had decided on a place called the Rift, for whatever reason, and while she couldn't see any other humans among the clientele she didn't get any obviously hostile stares either. The whole place was just the right bit of slightly disreputable without being a dump, and the drinks were unexpectedly tolerable.  
>Also, the company was fine enough.<br>Shepard had been right about one thing. Turians or not, the two other Spectres were easy to get along with.

She watched contently as Nihlus was telling another story so outrageous that it probably was true, with Nysana cheerfully disputing the truth of his claims. They'd been trading war stories back and forth, and Shepard was coming to the conclusion that she had a lot more in common with them than most Alliance soldiers she'd ever met. A disturbing thought, that.  
>Nysana finally grudgingly admitted that Nihlus might be right, after all, and in some sort of retaliation promptly hogged the small bowl of complimentary snacks that had been left at their table. Shepard had no idea what the small, vaguely cube-shaped purple lumps were, precisely, but they smelled so sticky sweet that her stomach turned at the mere thought of eating something like that. Not that her system would have tolerated dextro chirality food, of course. In any case, it was clearly different with the turians, who seemed to relish the stuff.<br>She watched Nihlus snag one of the morsels when Nysana was momentarily distracted by some sort of argument a few tables away, and pop it into his mouth. It wasn't a pretty sight, but she had been among aliens for too long now to be disturbed at their ways of eating. Besides, it could have been worse. At least turians didn't do much chewing, and she had seen humans with much worse table manners.

"So, you're one of Saren's former trainees, too?" she finally asked him. At his nod, she shook her head. "How did you put up with him?"

"He's not easy to get along with." Nihlus admitted. "We're friends now, but I still have some scars to remind me that he really, really doesn't like it if someone talks back at him." He grinned. "Want to see them?"

Shepard grinned back. "Oh, that's original. I have never heard that one before."

Nysana started to laugh. "And she got you there." Nihlus joined in readily enough, unoffended.

Shepard usually didn't give a damn about other people's life stories, but there was something about those two that raised her interest.  
>"How long have you been working together?"<p>

The turian woman gave a one-sided shrug. "About four years, maybe?" She looked at Nihlus for confirmation, and he nodded. "It works out well enough, and it's a lot more fun that way."

"Yes. I can believe that." Shepard said dryly with an openly appraising look at Nihlus. She could, too. As far as she could tell, by turian standards Nihlus was to be considered quite striking. His colouration with the dark face, white markings and bright green eyes certainly was easy on the eyes at least, and he seemed quite fun to have around.

Nysana laughed again, the metal bits in her curved fringe catching the light as she tossed her head back. "I didn't mean it that way. Although he's not doing too bad in the way you understood it, either."

"Why, thanks for that vote of confidence." Nihlus grumbled good-naturedly. He chuckled and said in Shepard's direction "What Nys is failing to mention is that if she's not with me she usually requires two partners for her idea of fun."

"So?" Nysana shot back, completely unruffled. "A Spectre's supposed to be able to do the job of two normal soldiers at any time, isn't he? So what's your excuse again?"

Far from being offended, he laughed, said something that Shepard's translator couldn't make any sense of, and Nysana almost sputtered. "Oh, that's not fair. And I haven't heard you complaining about that either."

"I wasn't. It was just an observation." Nihlus gave a grin showing far too many teeth, and his partner shook her head and chuckled.

Shepard raised an eyebrow at that exchange. The level of detail about their private preferences didn't faze her; turians weren't shy about sex, least of all discussing it, and soldiers even less so. She fully approved of Nysana's matter-of-fact way to take care of her needs. It wasn't quite what Shepard preferred, because she didn't like being outnumbered even in bed, but if the turian woman liked things that way, then more power to her.  
>What surprised her was the easy way those two interacted. They were close, that was obvious, and there seemed to be no jealousy involved. They apparently were lovers, and it was clear enough the cared for each other, but it wasn't romantic as she understood, and vaguely loathed, it. It was some sort of relationship, but it wasn't based on romance, nor anything else she could really define.<p>

It puzzled her a bit. Human soldiers who fought together for a long time could and would get close too, but not to that degree, and while they could get very used to each other's tactics, they wouldn't be in sync in that way, or trust each other that completely. That was just foolish. And they usually didn't sleep with each other, because that only complicated things and resulted in different expectations and all sorts of stupid behaviour on all sides involved. You didn't want to mix battle and romantic entanglements. It never worked out, and that sort of distraction got one killed.

Maybe it was just a turian thing.

Nysana threw her a quick look. "You're still confused about this, aren't you? Why we're working as a team."

Shepard shrugged. "I was so far under the impression that Spectres work alone."

"No." Nihlus cut in. "Some do. But it's a personal choice, and we all just find what works best for us and go with that. Look at it this way. You have someone at your side you can depend on and trust to have your back, and if things go wrong you at least die in good company."

She frowned. "I get why you would team up. The dynamics of that are a bit confusing to me, that's all."

"It's maybe just some cultural difference." Nysana said placidly. "For members of our species, it's quite normal." She laughed. "Probably just some evolutionary leftover. Your ancestors paired up for reproduction, and safety, and your instinctive and emotional choices and responses are built around that." She drew down her mandibles in a sudden, fierce grin. "Ours paired up for hunting and fighting together with those whose skill and ability complemented theirs best, with the primary goal being survival. Maybe that's the difference. Don't worry about it too much."

"As I said, it's personal preference." Nihlus added. "Whatever works. There are enough turians who prefer to work alone." He grinned. "You know one good example for that. Maybe that's what you, and any future human Spectres, will do, too. Maybe you're just like Saren."

"Hardly." she snorted, and both turians laughed at her tone.

"So." Shepard gave Nihlus a considering look, then pressed on. "You seem to know so many funny stories. Any embarrassing stories about Saren, then?"

"Oh, no." Nihlus shook his head, fluttering his mandibles in mock horror. "Even if I knew any, which is not what I'm saying, I wouldn't tell. You should know what he's like if he's angry. I'm not saying anything."

"Coward." Nysana commented in a scathing tone, then elbowed him affectionately, which made him grumble again.

Shepard grinned, shook her head and took another sip from her drink. Oh yes, those two were fun. 


	4. Chapter 4

Shepard returned to her quarters, feeling slightly exhausted but satisfied enough with her own performance. The last few days had been rather trying, the training not only involving combat exercise but also familiarising herself with the latest tech and weapon upgrades. Of the latter, there was a new type of incendiary grenades in particular that Shepard was looking forward to use in real combat.  
>Today had been mostly shooting practice, which always way a mixed bag. She wasn't a bad shot by any reckoning, but she simply lacked the constant precision that Saren had. Or the two other turian Spectres, for that matter. True, she usually traded precision for something with more firepower, but that had rankled a bit.<br>Her mood had been considerably improved by some hand-to-hand training with a group of C-sec specialists afterwards, though. She grinned in recollection. Last man standing was fun, uncomplicated and a good way to relieve frustration.

Her grin faded somewhat. Too bad that that was the only way to relieve some stress around here. It couldn't be helped, though; there were only a handful humans here that she'd seen so far, and none of them were hanging out in the same places she did when off-duty. She hadn't cared enough to try and find out, mostly because if they couldn't stand the places she chose, they weren't going to be of much interest to her in any case. She also wasn't desperate enough to go chasing after one of the aliens for temporary company, so that sort of entertainment had to wait until she made it back into some part of space where humans were more common.

It didn't help, of course, that there hadn't been many other options for some temporary company even before her stay on Nabol. In the few days they had been stuck at the Citadel while she was waiting for all of the paperwork to be finished and her new equipment to be delivered she had had some time at her hands to find amusement.  
>There had been a handsome Alliance marine at the Citadel after her Spectre induction, when she had been privately celebrating at the Dark Star lounge, but although that one's performance had been quite up the expected standards, it had been strangely unsatisfying in some undefinable way.<p>

A day or two later, she had been drinking with some C-sec personnel, and she had been drunk enough and curious enough to hit on one of the turians in the mixed group when the hour had gone late enough and only the two of them were left. He'd been a promising young officer who by turian standards was rather handsome. She didn't quite remember his name, but she remembered that he'd had nice blue markings on his face, and had been quite shell-shocked first at her interest. It had been quite fun. There had been no question at all who was dominant in that encounter, though, and while his gentleness and willingness to defer to her had been a nice experience, it had lacked the element of volatile excitement and danger that her previous activities with Saren had had.  
>It had proven to her that, as sad as it was, that she hadn't just turned into a raging xenophile, which would have been quite easy to deal with. Turians were fun, but she was searching for some special qualities, and those might be harder to come by than originally expected. The fact that she couldn't quite define what those qualities were didn't help any, either. It was a complication to her life she didn't appreciate in the least.<p>

It was something of a consolation that Saren had no way of knowing about her experiment with the C-sec officer. If he'd known, he'd probably first have laughed his scaly arse off, and then mocked the hell out of her. Not that any of that was anyone's business but her own.

At least she had gotten some measure of amusement watching Nihlus and Nysana at a training run in a simulated jungle environment.

She hadn't seen much of Saren the last few days, their schedules diverging greatly, so she was at least vaguely surprised to find him in their shared living room.

From the looks of him, he was just getting ready to leave, a rather heavy-looking sniper rifle in his hands that he was just folding up to clip to his armour.  
>She considered the rifle, then inwardly shrugged. None of them was supposed to keep firearms at their quarters, and that rule actually made sense to her. Apparently Saren considered himself exempt from that rule and no one had so far dared to try and enforce it in his case. Shepard couldn't blame them.<br>He gave her a quick nod.

"What's that thing?" she asked, indicating the rifle.

"A prototype, it doesn't have a proper designation yet." He regarded the folded rifle with vague displeasure. "I'm not impressed, but maybe Nysana will like it better."

Shepard nodded. "Both of them just finished up at the jungle arena, if you're looking for her." She couldn't suppress a smile. "Last I saw they went up against a salarian STG team of three. Ended as a draw due to time limit, but I don't think they played as hard as they could have."

"Probably not. They have better sense than that." His tone implied heavily that Shepard, in contrast, had no such sense.

"I wonder how good they really are, though." she said, absently.  
>Saren's annoyed growl startled her. "You're still thinking about fighting them as a team, aren't you?"<p>

"I don't see why not." she said, crossing her arms in front of her chest. "They're good, but it's not impossible."

"Forget it. At a distance, maybe, but they're too good for us to rely on that, and in close combat we can't match them."

She frowned. "What makes you say that?"

He snarled. "You observed them in action. You see how they worked as a team?"

"So?" She still failed to see the problem. "So can we."

His voice turned cold. "No, we can't. Not like that."

Shepard matched him glare for glare. "And why the hell not? Out in the field we've done well enough."

Something changed in his stance, something that was a warning for her not to push him any further. "Because you don't trust me enough to have me guarding your back. You'd spend far too much time wondering what I'm doing and why."

Usually she'd backed down by now, but something in his outright refusal annoyed her sufficiently not to. "Sure I trust you at my back. I don't see your point."

It maybe was the wrong thing to say. From the way he held his head she knew something was up, but she only knew more when he suddenly moved and she found herself face-first pushed against the closed door, just hard enough to knock her off balance. Her elbow lashed out in reflex. He knew that move, and she knew that he did, but for some reason he didn't even try to avoid the blow, and she both heard and felt the impact. It didn't drive him off, though, and then he was too close, tip of one mandible just touching the side of her neck. His claws were digging into her shoulders, a warning. He growled.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?" she snapped, her voice not completely steady. She didn't know what he intended, but she knew that growl, and something in the pit of her belly responded to that with both interest and uneasiness. He didn't reply, and she continued. "Is that your idea of a rematch?"

He snarled, but she couldn't place that tone and was rather certain that was an expression she hadn't heard of him before.  
>"No." He slammed his palms flat against the door and threw his head back, and she spun around at him, confused. She had expected this to lead to either violence or sex, or a combination thereof, and that she would have understood, but he was breaking the pattern.<p>

He was still too close, but his expression was fierce, although not precisely threatening. His right mandible was the slightest bit askew, a trace of blue on his jaw.

She tried hard not to, but for a moment she felt a shiver of real fear. She'd never before actually hit him, and she had no idea how he would react. So far it had always been her estimation that this was something to be avoided. She knew he took that sort of thing quite personal, though. He could have evaded, but had chosen to take that hit. She wondered what that would cost her in the long run.

Saren pushed himself away, putting distance between them again.

"No," he repeated, coldly. "It's not. It was a demonstration. Note that I didn't hurt you in any way, I just made a move you didn't expect. You were saying something about trust?" His voice was like nothing she'd heard from him before. He was angry, not the sort of anger that came just before someone died rather gruesomely by his hand, but a cold, sharp and almost calm variant that she had absolutely no clue how to handle.

He didn't wait for her reply but turned away, and for once she didn't dare to try and have the last word.

She watched him go, and hated the way she was still shaking very slightly from reaction. 


	5. Chapter 5

She didn't take any special care to stay out of Saren's way for the next few days, because that would have counted as running away, which she didn't, but she took full advantage of their diverging schedules. Training took up most of her time, and what spare time she had was divided between hanging out with the other two Spectres and catching up on the manuals for some of the new weapons she was learning to handle.  
>By any reasonable reckoning she should have been too busy to think about any other problems, especially those that would resolve themselves in the near future. A few more days, and she'd be free of the moody turian, and finally free to again choose her own way.<br>Saren's behaviour shouldn't bother her, and yet it did.

She shook her head, annoyed at herself.  
>Even a nice full-contact spar with an asari commando hadn't done much to improve her mood, as satisfying as it had been to kick some arrogant blue alien arse. She was on her way back to her quarters for a much needed shower and a change of clothes.<br>True, she could have had the former back at the training centre, but she wasn't in the mood for the public showers and any smart comments from other trainees. She was neither shy nor particularly self-conscious, but with her current mood she might be tempted to respond to any provocation with more than a verbal retort, and that just wasn't worth the trouble that would follow. She could hold her peace for a few more days.

Saren was in, apparently just back from his own training, wearing some sort of grey uniform. He was busy at the VI terminal and acknowledged her rather cool greeting with a hiss of his own.  
>She left him to his own devices and got herself cleaned up and changed. He was still there when she was done, and completely ignoring her, which gave her a good opportunity to study him.<br>It wasn't obvious, but she hadn't spent the better part of a year in his company without learning his moods at least partially, and from the set of his shoulders and the angle he held his head at, she could tell he was tense. He was deliberately ignoring her, then, and that sent another stab of annoyance through her.  
>Apart from that, he looked much his normal bad tempered self. Something was different about the line of his left leg, and it took her a moment to understand that there was a bandage from mid-thigh down to his knee among the side of his leg, hidden by his uniform. "What happened to your leg?"<p>

Saren looked up, then glanced down at his leg as if he had forgotten and wasn't sure what she was talking about. He shrugged. "Just a scratch."

"Did you get into a match with Nysana?"

He shook his head. "Piece of a Loki mech. It was an experiment. Didn't quite work out, but it was interesting nevertheless." He seemed disinclined to go into further detail. Instead, he gave her a flat stare.  
>"What are you still doing here? I would have assumed you'd be out for some dubious recreation with Nihlus and Nysana." His tone was deliberately flat, which usually meant he disapproved but didn't even consider it worth the effort to show it.<p>

Actually, she had intended to do that, but the presumption irritated her. "What's with the tone? Jealous?"

He just stared at her, not even bothering to reply to this one.

"Are you worried I'll drag either of them into my bed and do unspeakable things to them? Not that that would be any business of yours, of course."

He snorted, and from that she could tell that she was far off the mark. "Shepard, I couldn't care less if you discovered your new fetish for turians in general and acted upon it with either of them, or both, or a whole squad of C-sec trainees, as the case may be. No one else would care much, either, for that matter."

For some reason, that careless comment even irritated her more. "Still none of your business either way." she snapped.

"Only as long as your bad mood doesn't affect me. Which it does, at the moment." He gave her a look that was openly considering, and she met his eyes with a rather hostile stare.  
>Saren didn't back down, which she wouldn't have expected anyway, but he didn't react aggressively either. Without any haste, he got up and came over to her, regarding her almost searchingly.<p>

"What?" she snapped.

Something changed in his stance, too subtle for her to catch, but he just snorted. "Humans. I am coming to the conclusion that you really don't know your own mind at all." He seemed to ponder this for a moment, then he slightly inclined his head as if coming to a decision. "We established long ago that subtle is lost on you. Perhaps I just failed to take that into account properly."

She was just drawing breath to disagree, when he almost casually placed a hand over her ribs, then drew it upward, slowly over her breast, fingers cupping her, thumb just grazing the hollow of her throat.  
>Her breath caught. Of all the things she would have expected, being groped was so far down the list it probably didn't even fit on the same sheet.<br>This was completely unexpected, and even more disturbing, felt far too good. She caught herself leaning into his touch slightly before she could get a hold on herself again. There was no way he was going to manipulate her that easily. She remembered all too well that he knew how to touch her, and that he could make her lose control of herself. She wasn't going to risk that again. Once had been quite enough already.  
>"What do you think you're doing?"<p>

"You're wound up too tight." he stated, soberly. "And so far I've seen only two ways of easing tension that work on you. I'm not in the mood to fight you, and you have enough bruises for today as is. I could do with some easing of tension, too. So. Do you want me to continue this?"

His thumb brushed against her skin, and she again had to fight not to react.  
>"There are alternatives, of course." he continued, in a tone so matter-of-fact that he could have listed different options for weapons upgrades in the same voice. "I wouldn't know if there are any other humans currently on site that you might be interested in, but you seem to like Nihlus well enough. I can call him over, if you'd prefer that. He doesn't take things like that too seriously, and he's, perhaps, more likely to play along if you should get it into your head to experiment. From what I've seen from the furniture in here, I'm not sure whether it's technically possible to tie him to your bed, if that's what you have in mind, but I can hold him down for you if you'd like that." His left mandible lifted away from his jaw slightly, his version of a wry grin. "He'd probably think that great fun, too."<p>

Her jaw dropped, she couldn't help that. She couldn't quite believe what she just had heard. From a human, she would have known to understand a suggestion like that as an accusation, an insult or at least a bad joke at her expense. She should have taken his face off for that, anyway, alien or not. Yet looking at him, even she could tell he wasn't trying to insult. He made this almost sound sensible. And she tried very hard not to think any further about what he'd just said. "You're serious."

"I'm not commonly known for my sense of humour."

"I know. You'd seriously do that."

He didn't even blink. "You should know by now that I am not very particular about the methods needed to reach a given result, and that's hardly something to get worked up about. If it got you back into what masquerades as a sensible mindset in you, why the hell not? But from your reaction I can at least assume that's not quite what you had in mind either. Well, then. What do you want?"

Something in her was still convinced he was trying to humiliate her, and her temper flared, even as she knew she was losing this argument. "You know that well enough. Are you trying to make me beg?"

"No." The answer was completely flat. "And no, I have no idea what you really want. I repeat my question."  
>He wasn't holding her. He kept contact with her, but that was it. It was almost as if he had forgotten that he had his hand on her breast. He certainly didn't try to deepen the contact, or caress her in order to convince. It would have been so much easier if he had, it would have been much easier to resent him for it. And even so she felt she was losing ground.<p>

"Fine." she bit out through gritted teeth. "No need to get the nice Spectre in here. You're quite enough." More than she could handle, in fact, and if she had any sense to speak of she'd have been much better off really going to Nihlus for some company, but she'd be damned before she told Saren that. "That what you wanted to hear?"

Saren didn't reply directly. "This here is something I've seen from you before, but still fail to understand." he said, strangely calm. "What exactly is it that are you doing now? I understand fighting as some sort of prerequisite to sex, of course, because sometimes that's what turians do, but what you're doing here is different, and you're clearly not enjoying it. So what's the proper response to what you're doing here?"

"It's not that simple." she snapped, but there was no way in hell she could explain.

"Only if you choose to make it complicated." He was still giving her that strange look, like she was a very complicated code he was trying to figure out. His other hand suddenly came up, cradling the side of her face, tip of his thumb claw resting under her left eye. It should have freaked her out, especially as she knew that his claws not only were pointed but also held small hidden blades, but for some reason she was no longer worried about any damage he could do to her with claws or blades. He was much more dangerous than that.

"Let's try to keep it simple for a change. I'm not interested in playing any mind games with you, and there are no strings attached. I just want you. If you happen to be in the mood, then that's a win for both of us. If not, tell me to back off, and I will, and that's the end of the matter. I'd appreciate if you could find some other way to lose your tension, then, because your mood is straining my patience, but ultimately that is your decision, too, and if you won't take any advice and be sensible, there's nothing else I can and will do about it. Either way I won't think any different of you." He cocked his head to one side. "Is that clear enough?"

Shepard stared at him, unsure of what to say. Somehow she'd never seen that one coming. She was reasonably certain he'd enjoyed their previous encounters, but by some unspoken agreement they'd never discussed that. He'd never expressed interest, and even if he had, she'd never expected him to just go ahead and say it like this.  
>He left himself wide open for anything with that. Except, maybe, that it was different for him.<br>She just nodded.

"Good. We seem to have established basic communication." he stated, dryly. "Let's test basic understanding, then. Do you want me to back off?"

There was no need to think about the question. "No." she said.

"Even better. We are capable of agreeing on something." He ran his hands down her front, slowly, and she was incapable of hiding her reaction as he slipped them under her shirt, textured palms brushing against her skin on the way up again. She bit back a gasp as his fingers cupped her breasts, thumbs stroking her nipples almost casually through the thin fabric of her underwear.

She was aware he was still watching her, or rather, evaluating her reaction. There was nothing hostile about it, but nevertheless it made her uncomfortable, made her want to lash out at least verbally, and she barely checked that reflex.  
>She wanted him, she had no problem admitting that to herself, but on her own terms. That probably wasn't precisely fair, but that was the only way it could be, the only way she knew how to play it.<p>

And this wasn't how it was supposed to be. He had her with her back against the wall, but he wasn't applying any force, or even crowding her, which would have set off her instinct to retaliate. She didn't have control over this, but neither did he, really. She could just move away, if she chose to.

He let go of her for a moment, snagging the hem of her shirt in his claws and unhurriedly drew it upwards, in a continuous, suspiciously smooth move over her head. Too fast to even make her tense up when her vision was blocked for a moment. She hated not being able to see. He didn't try to trap her wrists with it either, but tugged it free and dropped it carelessly, leaning back in.  
>It only served as further proof that he knew her reactions far too well.<br>She shivered, and not from the cool room temperature, as his hands found her breasts again.  
>His expression was unreadable as always, but intent.<p>

She bit her lips as her body reacted, letting him know far too much.

"I can't figure it out." he said, his voice strangely soft. "I should be able to, but I can't. You like this, and it's not in your nature to be ashamed for what you are and what you prefer. Yet you insist on fighting your own instincts." He leaned his head closer, mandibles brushing over the crook of her neck, as if testing something, then drew back, and she shivered again. "Hm. No, not quite. You just don't want me to see your reaction." He sounded surprised, and she flinched. "Why would you do that?"

She considered not answering, and wondered whether he'd stop what he was doing to accentuate his question, but he didn't.  
>It wasn't something she could set into words. "Self-preservation." she finally said.<br>He seemed honestly confused by her answer, something she hadn't seen in him quite like that before.

"Why? What tactical advantage would I gain from that?" He shook his head. "Let me try to understand this. You trust me enough for us to fight side-by-side, and to keep enemies off your back, but you assume automatically that I will turn on you first chance when it's just about mutual pleasure?"

"It's not like that." she said, then sighed. Apparently he wasn't going to let this go.  
>"Just common sense. You never let anyone see if you value or care about something, or else someone will try and take it away, or try to use that to manipulate you. And don't tell me you don't live by that rule, either."<p>

Saren blinked, and she met his eyes, daring him to disagree.  
>He finally nodded. "A valid argument. It doesn't apply in this situation, though. I already know that you like this. It makes no difference, we're on equal footing here." He leaned in again, and she started slightly as she felt his tongue trail down the side of her neck, rough like a cat's. He growled slightly, his voice low but unmistakably amused. "I'd say we affect each other equally."<p>

Her eyes widened at that casual confession. She knew that turian or not, he could, and did, lie, but she also had seen him do so often enough to at least have a good idea when he was telling the truth and when he wasn't. She could see no sign that he wasn't truthful about that, and more, it didn't bother him in the least to admit it.

Then again, on the whole, it didn't matter, none of this did. In a few day's time, they'd part ways, and she would be rid of his moods and his strange behaviour and disturbing insights. This here could be enjoyable without consequences, just as he'd implied. Maybe that was why he didn't mind admitting that he wanted this.

Her thoughts were distracted from this topic as she felt his teeth graze over her collarbone.  
>His fingers moved, and with a soft rip of cloth her bra fell away. "You're cheating." she observed, unable to keep the amusement from her voice.<p>

"Not at all. I'm merely taking a tactical shortcut." His tongue curled around one nipple, and she gasped. She hadn't known he could do that. Or would even want to. He'd once taken her through a perfect seduction, just to prove he could do that if he chose to, but he hadn't done anything of that sort back then.

She sighed, leaning into his touch. And it felt better than it had any right to.  
>He kept his attention on her breast some more, then reached down, unfastening her trousers. His claws were on her hips for a moment, then he went down on one knee, fisted his hands into the fabric and pulled. The coarse fabric went down over her hips, down her legs, and she automatically stepped out of them quickly, instinctively trying to keep her movement unrestricted.<p>

Saren laid a hand on her thigh and she stilled. He stroked his thumb over her skin, and she shivered again, watching him. She couldn't help it, that view was very much of a turn on. It might even have featured in some fantasy she might have had, or several, not that she'd ever thought she'd see it in real life.

"Finally brought you to your knees, didn't I?" she said, automatically, but he just shook his head slightly, as if she was being rather foolish. Then he very calmly licked the inner side of her thigh, and she forgot to breathe for a moment.

She knew she should be worried about his teeth and his uncertain temper, but her mind was getting rather distracted. His claws suddenly sliced through the band of her panties, and before she could voice objections to that, he licked her again, a fleeting touch over sensitive skin, and all she could manage was an incoherent sound.  
>Another lick, and this time the tip of his tongue dragged through her folds, brushed against her clit, and she whimpered, caught between arousal and unease.<br>"You can't seriously mean to-"

He growled, but it sounded more amused than anything. "Shepard, in case you still haven't noticed I'm not in the habit of hurting whoever I am with when the point is shared pleasure. I'm not going to bite you, unless you want me to and explicitly tell me so. Now just shut the hell up, for once."

She consoled herself that if he was lying about any of this she could always deal with that later. It wasn't surrender if she chose to let him do that.

And even that thought fled from her mind as he started lapping at her. Instinctively, she spread her legs to give him better access, and he took full advantage of that. His tongue snaked inside her, probing, finding a very sensitive spot that made her swear incoherently in reaction. Desire spread through her like a slow burn.

He was right in one regard, at least; she had been wound up tight, and this seemed a good way to get rid of some tension. So if her reaction was a bit fast, there was a good reason for it. At least that was what she told herself.

His tongue was on her clit again, swirling in an almost lazy motion, and that did her in. She shuddered as her climax shot through her nervous system, her knees momentarily going weak, but he seemed to have anticipated that, too, because he gripped her around hips and lower back, stabilised her briefly, then drew her down to him.

She tugged at the fastenings of his uniform, opening seams and helping him shrug it off. Then he gathered her close again as she ran her hands over the plates on his chest.

She wanted him, and rationally that made no sense to her. His body was too strange, too alien to be attractive to her in the conventional sense. Hell, he probably wasn't attractive even to one of his own kind. That pale colour, his plates that were rough and uneven even where they weren't scarred, his partially cybernetic face, all of that certainly didn't help. Neither did his character, for that matter. He was undeniably skilled in touching her the way she liked, but she had more sense than let her judgement be clouded by her needs like that.  
>Yet there was something that caused her to want this, so much more than she should, and she couldn't say why.<p>

Hell with it.

Shepard settled in his lap and wrapped her legs over his hips. This wasn't a position she would have chosen, but she had to admit that while she'd probably have liked to push him down and straddle him, this left neither of them in a traditionally dominant position. Knowing him, that was probably even the point, but in any case, it was an acceptable compromise.

She ground herself into his plates in unmistakable invitation, smiling involuntarily as she felt the slight movement that signalled that he intended to accept the invitation, and decided that was a good sign, because really, what he'd just done had taken off the edge.  
>His hands wrapped around her waist, claws tensing against her skin, as he moved sharply against her, entering her fully in a single stroke. She couldn't quite hold back a soft cry of pleasure, and didn't really try, either. Instead, she ran her hands over the inner side of his collar, then the back of his neck.<p>

In that, at least, they were on equal grounds; she had done her research some time ago and knew the more sensitive spots on his body and just how to touch him to make him react.  
>Her fingers found one of these spots, and she gently dug her fingernails into the softer skin there. He groaned, a sound of approval that transcended species very well, and jerked against her.<p>

Her breath hitched in reaction, and desire spread like warmth through her lower body.  
>She braced her feet against his spurs, which made him growl deeply, rolled her hips against him. They settled into a slow rhythm, almost tentative, nothing like the aggressive, fast paced encounters they'd had before. It wasn't a contest this time, not really, and Shepard wasn't quite sure how to handle that.<br>Her distrustful nature made her look at him sharply, for any sign of ulterior motive or maybe smugness or some sort of mockery, but all she could see was that he seemed to enjoy himself, and that was all. It was only sensible to do the same, then.

She relaxed, and experimentally tilted her hips slightly, then gasped as the changed angle intensified sensation considerably. There definitely were parts of his anatomy where she thoroughly approved of strange, uneven ridges and bumps. She might even have voiced that observation aloud, because he gave an amused sound at that which quickly turned into a groan as she resumed her stroking on the back of his neck.  
>It felt good and it was what she needed right now, and she stopped thinking about it all.<p>

She leaned back, trusting him to hold her as need became stronger, a driving, almost fierce force on its own. He'd picked up his pace, and she was meeting him thrust for thrust, but it was still slower, different from what she was used to. Her focus had narrowed down just on the perfect friction that every slide of his body against hers brought, sensation building up until it would have been impossible to stop and she couldn't take it anymore.  
>She couldn't help her fingers digging into the back of his neck, which made him snarl and draw her close in a sudden, hard move, and that break in rhythm broke what was left of her control as well. Some part of her was falling, but instinct demanded that she wouldn't be the only one, that she'd take him down with her, and she clung to him, almost desperate, shifting her hands up to the back of his head, pulling him against her, and into her. He snarled again, but didn't resist at all. She felt him shudder in that certain way against her, and that was what she needed as well, and she arched her back and groaned.<br>Climax ripped through her again, violent this time like black claws, as she convulsed against him, unable to care about sharp edges or rough plates anymore, unable to think about anything else but the sensation of that release running like lightning through her.  
>Then tension drained out of her, leaving her bonelessly relaxed and breathless still holding on to him.<p>

It was some time until she found her breath again, but she remained where she was anyway, absently resting her cheek against the pale plates of his collar. Her sense returned, slowly, as her pulse returned to a more normal beat, and she became aware of what she was doing and lifted her head away.

This had been different from what she'd come to expect, but undeniably enjoyable.

He moved suddenly, and she hastily disentangled herself as he rose himself to his feet again. She followed suit, regarded him critically as he stretched. She would swear until her last breath that there wasn't much that was attractive in the traditional sense about any turian in general, and this one specimen in particular, with their angular shapes and odd proportions, but even so, she'd always admired that careless, innate grace they had when they moved. They all had that, but right now that casual elegance was quite obvious in Saren.  
>Or maybe she had just gotten so used to turian appearance in general that it no longer put her off.<p>

Shepard retrieved her clothes, then remembered the state of her underwear. With a roll of her eyes retreated to her room to hunt down replacements and dress again.

When she returned, he was back at his terminal, again properly attired and regarding a set of schematics thoughtfully.

He looked at her sideways as she stepped up to him to have a look at the display.

"Are you feeling better?" His tone was amused with a touch of irony, almost normal in the way he'd insult her and she'd insult him back, and they'd somehow almost get along.

"Moderately." she replied in much the same tone, and his mandibles twitched even as he gave an insulted snort. "What is it that you're doing here, anyway?"

"Looking up some newly developed tech specifically against mechs." he replied. "It never hurts to plan ahead."

She leaned forward to regard the schematics herself, and was about to comment on it when her omnitool gave a soft ping. She turned on the interface, read the short note from Nysana about a change of plans, then turned it off again.

Saren was still staring at the schematics, but something had changed in the way he held his head, and the set of his shoulders. "You were leaving." he reminded her, calmly. "I won't keep you from your schedule." His tone was disinterested, and distant, and she blinked at the abrupt change of mood.

"You could come along." she said, the most neutral reply she could give.

"Thanks for the offer, but no."

She waited for a few seconds, but he didn't have anything to add, and it took most of her self control to get out of her quarters with no further comment. She couldn't even tell precisely why she was so furious. Saren wasn't a sociable creature, and whatever mutual attraction was between them couldn't make up for that, and she knew that. She wasn't one to read too much into a quick roll in the hay or expect any commitments or declarations of affection, so that wasn't it either.

Maybe it was just disappointment; for a moment she had thought that they were back to normal. And then he'd gone strange again, and shrugged her off like nothing. And she really should know better than to think about reasons for his behaviour, or care in the least.  
>They weren't friends. He'd never wanted her along in the first place, after all. It shouldn't matter to her. Just a few more days, and she'd be free of the moody turian.<p>

Still, there was no need for him to drive her off like that. Damned alien. And she was a just a damned fool to even care about that brush-off. It just proved that it had been a mistake, after all. He was skilled enough as a bed partner, but his character and attitude were too much to deal with. It wasn't worth it, she should have known better, and she didn't know whether she was more angry at Saren for still managing to get at her or herself for falling for whatever strange game he was playing. And something was wrong with her, too, because this had been precisely what he'd offered, and what they both had needed, something mutually satisfactory with no consequences, just how she always satisfied that need. She should have been glad that he quick to keep his distance again, because that was what she usually did, too. It had been perfectly satisfying, but not enough, and she didn't even know what else she wanted. He somehow had managed to mess with her head, and she still couldn't figure out how, or what to do about it.

She wasn't in the mood to deal with any more turians tonight, so she went in search of some different place to have a drink or two in peace and maybe cool down again.


	6. Chapter 6

Shepard stayed away from all of the Spectres as much as she could for the following two days. She stuck to her schedule, applied herself to her work and kept to herself during her free time. There was no sign of Saren when she was in their quarters, which was at least something. She didn't know where he was, and made no effort to find out.  
>She was busy enough, but it was all vaguely unsatisfying. Even close combat didn't do anything to make her feel better.<p>

It was her last day of scheduled training, and she found herself with nothing interesting to do, so she wandered the area, watching the other various soldiers at their own workouts and drills.  
>The warehouse arena was in use, so she climbed up to the observation platform. She noted too late that all three of the other Spectre's were already there. Too late to turn away, and besides, she wasn't going to hide from them anyway. She had no reason to.<p>

Saren was at the outer edge of the platform, watching the run in progress rather impassively, while Nihlus was talking to him in a low voice. Nysana stood a few steps away from then, looking supremely bored.  
>At Shepard's approach, she gave a friendly wave. "Hey, Shepard. Where have you been hiding?"<p>

"Been busy." she replied, a bit reserved, but she couldn't help smiling back.

Saren looked up briefly, giving a growl that might be interpreted as some sort of greeting, then turned his attention to the arena again.  
>Nilus waved at her, friendly enough, but went back to his discussion with the other Spectre.<p>

"So, what's happening down there?" she asked, coming to stand beside Nysana. The arena was, at first glance, empty save for a good dozen Loki mechs.

"Nothing too interesting." the turian woman said. "There's an asari infiltrator down there who made a bet that she could sneak past these Lokis without being detected."

Shepard blinked, then gave the area a critical look. "Looks possible, if a bit tricky." She thought about it for a moment. "Wait, she bet against you?"

Nysana just grinned.

Shepard thought for a moment, then her expression mirrored the other woman's. "What did you do? Upgrade the sensors of all the mechs so they'd be able to detect her?"

"Of course not." Nysana sounded indignant.

Below in the arena, one of the Loki mechs suddenly turned its head, then fired at a seemingly empty spot just ahead of it.  
>The mech's fire glanced off something invisible, then the infiltrator's cloak gave out, and the asari became visible.<br>At that, the rest of the mechs sighted in on her and started firing.

"Just that one, then." Shepard amended, amused, as the asari exerted her full skill to at least get out of the pinch she had suddenly found herself in.

"No need to overdo anything." Nysana agreed in a placid tone, but her eyes sparkled as shots and minor explosions sounded from below.

"That wasn't quite fair." Shepard felt obligated to point out.

"No, it wasn't." Nysana watched with interest as the asari took a few hits but made it safely out of range, several of the mechs down due to her biotics.  
>"This isn't about fair." she said, still amused. "I even left her a chance. If she hadn't been so damned arrogant to try and sneak right through that cluster of mechs, she still could have made it. I probably did her a favour in the long run. She'll remember that defeat and learn from it."<p>

Shepard found it hard to argue against that, as she fully approved of both the action and the logic behind it.

Nysana stretched her back, then leaned forward on the handrail again, turning her head to give Shepard a rather sharp look. "And you seem stressed. Maybe you need a few rounds on the training mats to relax."

It was probably really just meant in a friendly way, but Shepard growled, not needing any reminder. "Never mind."

Another sharp look. "You sure about that? Arena's free, if you want to have a go at it." Nysana was deliberately casual. The casual tone did nothing to hide the challenge, and it was enough to raise Shepard's hackles.  
>And all her bad mood came back in one instant. "I'd be only too happy to kick both your arses, but I seem to be lacking a partner, and this is a team competition, isn't it?" she replied. Then her frustration really got the better of her. "Hell with it. Saren, are you up for this?"<p>

The other two turians seemed almost surprised, although she couldn't tell why, and didn't really care.  
>Out of the corner of her eyes, she saw him go still in that way he had that either was surprised or getting ready to explode into sudden violence. Then he tossed his head back, annoyed. "Very well. So be it." His tone was clipped.<p>

Nihlus threw a quick look at Saren, gauging his reaction, then carefully asked. "Here? The Warehouse arena?"

"If you want. Get rid of the spectators, though. I'm not doing this for public entertainment." Saren's tone was dismissive, uncaring, but even so it was clear enough that he was annoyed. "And I'm not wearing that VI armour either. Get us some counters to attach to our normal armour."

Without waiting for any reply, he turned away and took himself off into the direction of the arena.

Nihlus stared at the departing turian, then back at Shepard, carefully not saying anything in a way that didn't do anything to improve Shepard's mood. "What?"

"Nothing. Just hoping that you know what you're doing here." he replied, his tone not as playful as usual.  
>She snorted. "No idea what you're talking about, so either explain it to the human or get ready to get your arse kicked."<p>

He gave her a strange look. "So you don't. Ah well. Doesn't matter, then." Then his expression turned into a very toothy grin. "We'll see about who's kicking whose arse here, human."


	7. Chapter 7

Saren was still shaking his head slightly, clearly unhappy with the situation as they were taking their positions in the arena. "You angry?" Shepard asked.

"I'd be more angry if any of this had come as a surprise. It was inevitable you'd do that, eventually. I hadn't counted on you making it a formal challenge, but then again I should have known that, too. You don't do anything half-way, especially if you're getting yourself into trouble." If anything, he sounded a bit resigned.

She hadn't noticed anything about a formal challenge. "So what difference does that make?"

Saren looked far too calm. "It can't be refused."

"So they couldn't back out. So what; it was what Nysana was trying to needle me into all the time anyway."

"I wasn't talking about them." Saren's voice was cold. "I was talking about myself." He shook his head, irritated. "Never mind. All you have to know is that this game has no rules, beside winning, and things are going to get rough."

"Oh, good."

He was already scanning their surroundings for any sign of movement. On finding none, he gave her a hard look. "I usually avoid these challenges. There is no gain in it, and I see no need to prove anything to any of our fellow Spectres." He paused for a second, then continued, his tone harder. "I also have no desire at all to lose against them because of you. Which is a very realistic outcome, given the circumstances."  
>Shepard drew breath to protest, but he ignored her. "So. Let's try to do this as a team, for once. They'll see you as the weaker opponent and will try to take you out first, so they can then both go for me. Whatever else you do, ignore Nysana. I'll take care of her. Don't get distracted. Go for Nihlus. Try to take him down, don't worry about anything else. If you can't, keep him busy and stay alive until I join you again. Can you do that?"<p>

She snorted. "Of course."

"Somehow I sincerely doubt that."  
>Shepard refused to be insulted. "Let's play."<p>

Saren didn't reply, and when she turned her head at him he was already gone.

She was used to that, though. With a grin, she started forward. Since she and Saren started out from the central position in the area, the traditional approach would have been to set some traps and go into defence mode, but that tactic didn't appeal to either of them.  
>She had always preferred a direct, more active approach if at all possible.<p>

Her combat scanner only showed one target, which either meant they were too close to each other so the scanner read them as one individual, or that one of them was cloaking. The latter explanation made more sense. It was something she could see Nysana doing. She mentally shrugged and went for the target she could at least see.

Finding Nihlus was easy enough, and she evaded one of his explosive traps without any difficulties. Sneaking up on the likes of him was not easy, since he had excellent senses, so she didn't even try.  
>He apparently hadn't expected a direct attack, and she at least got a few good hits on his shields until he figured out the problem and went into cover. From then on it was proper hide-and-seek.<br>She finally cornered him in a dead end, and he turned on her immediately. To her extreme displeasure she still wasn't fast enough to get him with the assault rifle, and he swatted the weapon aside, breaking her grip on it. She let go rather than risk having her wrist broken and stepped aside, evading his blow and getting a good kick at the side of his knee joints in.  
>The armour took most of it, of course, but he felt that, and was off-balance long enough for a jab of her armoured elbow to side of his waist where his armour was by necessity thinner and more flexible.<br>He snarled, the tone alone promising a painful death, and she hurried to get out of immediate reach.  
>Going hand-to-hand with a highly trained turian in heavy armour wasn't the smartest thing to do, certainly, but she'd have to lie if she had to say it wasn't fun. Just the fun she needed.<p>

Nihlus snarled again, a flash of white teeth behind black mandibles, and from his expression she could assume he thought something along the same lines.

Somewhere else was the sound of gunfire, rather close by, proving that somewhere Saren and Nysana were still playing tag with each other.

Shepard didn't try to gain some distance and bring fire weapons into play again, and neither did Nihlus. Close up and personal it was, then.  
>They traded blows for a short while, testing each other's defences. She jumped back again, narrowly avoiding a swipe of his hand that would have meant trouble if it had connected. Nihlus didn't close in after her immediately, which was a bad sign, and there was something moving behind her, to her left.<p>

The damned turian had lured her in for his partner. Incidentally, that would be the same partner that Saren was supposed to handle.  
>Hell with it.<p>

Shepard grimaced, but didn't even think about it as she lunged at Nihlus.  
>The other Spectre had been distracted by something behind her, and his eyes widened as he realised that she wasn't distracted as well. Now there were snarls of rage in two different voices and yelps somewhere behind her, but she ignored it with her own target in front of her. She took a glancing blow to the face, but there wasn't much force behind it.<br>Shepard blocked his automatic defence move with her shoulder and cracked her elbow into his face hard, hitting the rectangular scale between his eyes with admirable precision.  
>He snarled and somehow remained standing, but it was clear he was dazed.<br>She jumped clear again, because some instinct warned her, and suddenly there was a rather battered-looking Nysana between her and Nihlus, taking a swipe at her with clawed gauntlets.  
>Shepard registered distantly that Nihlus suddenly snarled, more surprised than angry, then fell silent.<p>

"You're dead, Shepard." Nysana snapped.

"No, she's not. But you are, Nysana."  
>Saren appeared right behind her, casually tapping her shoulder. Nysana's reflexes were excellent, but even so she only managed to half-turn before the other turian had grabbed her by the back of her neck and hauled her backwards, well clear of Shepard. The turian woman was swearing creatively and profoundly, still struggling in Saren's grip and snarling with rage.<p>

Shepard looked past Nysana at Nihlus, who was still shaking his head to clear it. He gave her a grin. "You are a fierce thing, for a human." he said.

She snorted, then returned his grin. "And you are a good sport, for a turian."

He tossed his head, and she grinned again. No hard feelings here.

Nysana was still snarling, but it sounded only insulted by now. "Oh, let me go, Saren, you made your point." Saren snorted and did just that.  
>The turian woman shook herself, then gave Shepard a slightly rueful grin, and addressed Saren again. "And that was downright sneaky of you. I thought you were out for the count."<p>

Saren didn't seem to take that amiss and just shrugged. "Spectre, remember? And you started it with the tactical cloak. I just did the same."

Shepard threw him a quick look, then stared. He had claw marks over his face, and for once it was easy to see which parts of his face were cybernetic and which were not. The organic ones were leaking blue, of course. Saren hadn't been exaggerating, Nysana really was fond of using her claws.  
>"Damn, you look like you cuddled with a varren." she said, before she could think better about it.<p>

Saren ignored her, turned away from her and regarded Nysana calmly. "Well fought. You've gotten even faster." he said. "Next time, though, make sure your target is actually down and not following you around under cloak." He turned to Nihlus. "As for you, you're fast and accurate as ever, and you know it, but you should consider dropping your tendency to toy with what you consider a weaker opponent. Shepard's got a blade strapped to her arm, and she has at least some vague idea what to do with it. If this was serious, you'd be down with your throat cut open. Try to avoid that next time."  
>He didn't even look at Shepard as he turned around and marched from the arena.<p>

"Uh-oh. If I was you, Shepard, I'd stay out of his way for a while until he's wound down again." Nysana shook her head, then gave Nihlus a quick look. "Sorry. That was my fault. I really thought I had him down."

The other turian clapped her upper arm in a gesture that was probably meant to be comforting but made her wince. "Don't worry about it. He used to play those kind of tricks on me too, back then. I suppose there's a reason he's not only still alive but the Spectre with the longest service record to date. Now, how are you?"

She grimaced. "Don't ask." Then that grin was back on her face. "Then again, I got trashed by Saren. You got your arse handed to you by a squishy, soft-skinned little human. Putting it into perspective like that helps." She ignored his groan. "Good match, though." She looked at Shepard. "And you're a joy to watch in a fight." Her look turned considering. "After this, we're headed out at the Traverse for some target practice. The pirates there have gotten a bit too numerous, and we thought to cull them some. If you want to, you could come along with us." Nihlus didn't seem the least surprised at Nysana's words and gave Shepard a quick nod to show that he was in agreement.

Shepard blinked. That offer came unexpected. But yes, she could see where that would be fun.

"Think about it." Nysana said. "And maybe we'll see you later at the Rift. Right now, I may need a bit of rest, though. See you, Shepard."

She watched them walk away, Nysana almost successfully concealing a limp and leaning on her partner, and considered.  
>Then she made back to her own quarters.<br> 


	8. Chapter 8

This time the hot shower only accentuated how much everything hurt. Nihlus had gotten in a few good blows, it seemed. Shepard watched herself in the mirror, examining an already darkening bruise on her cheek dispassionately.  
>No lasting harm done, and they had won.<br>Of course, now Saren was back in a bad mood, which soured things considerably. Damn him.

She changed into a fresh set of fatigues and walked out into the living room.

Saren was on the couch, changed into his black civilian clothes and reading from a data pad, and from the way he was ignoring her it wasn't advisable to disturb him. The scratches on his face, strangely enough, looked more gruesome now that he'd somewhat cleaned them up. She wondered whether they'd scar.

And she'd never had had enough sense to keep her mouth shut. It somehow seemed a bit late to start watching her mouth with him now.  
>"Nysana really scratched you up."<p>

He growled, a serious warning now, but she walked over to him anyway to have a closer look.

"By the way, I noticed I didn't get any critique from you." She tried to fake a hurt tone, but it probably wasn't very effective.

Saren growled again. "You don't need any. You took down Nihlus. What else do you want to hear?"

"It worked. We won."

He set the data pad aside and glared at her.

"You can admit now that we can work together." Shepard didn't flinch from his glare.

"Apparently." he ground out. The admission seemed to worsen his mood.

Shepard frowned. "Are you still angry about that match? You could just have declined." He didn't reply, and she shrugged. "And you proved once again that you're still the best of us. I don't see the problem there."

He had gone completely expressionless, and that was worrying, because she knew he was at the moment anything but calm. "Of course you don't."

Fine, she thought. If he wanted to be like that.  
>"By the way, they invited me to come along on their next mission. Hunting pirates in the Traverse. Sounds like fun."<p>

"Not unexpected, that." he said, and there was no hint of what he was thinking in his voice. "Why are you still here, then? If you decide to join up with them, you should go and work out the details."  
>There was again a hint of resentment in the last part, and she didn't know what to make of that. He certainly didn't resent the two other Spectres.<p>

Shepard studied him. He wasn't as calm as he tried to appear, not by any reckoning. There was something she was missing here.

His voice was still calm. "You impressed them well enough with that fight, and your styles are compatible. The three of you might work together well enough, if you can get around your tendency to act before you think and and if you can tone your inherent aggressiveness down enough not to regard them as rivals."

Whatever reply she had expected from him on that, that wasn't quite it, and it annoyed her.  
>"Aggressiveness, huh? Just because I don't back down from you like everyone else seems to?"<p>

Something in the way he tossed his head back warned her, but she had little time to react as he suddenly was back on his feet and right before her. He was far too close, but she stood her ground.  
>He actually ground his teeth, and that wasn't a comforting sight at all at close range.<p>

"Stop this." His tone became even more flat. "I tolerated a lot from you when you were my trainee. You're a Spectre in your own right now. We are of equal rank. You are no longer required remain in my company, and I am no longer required to tolerate your constant challenge and not respond in kind. I'm done playing."

That choice of words should have warned her, maybe, but she was too annoyed for any sort of fear to take hold.

"So am I, actually. And I've had it with your moodiness and the way you can't seem to decide on how to act towards me, lately. Make up your damned mind. If you want to take a swing at me, then do, but be aware that I'll hit right back. So if you want to fight it out, that's fine with me too."

There was a undertone in his voice now that was downright dangerous, and his eyes were bright, although she couldn't quite read the emotion. It wasn't just fury. "Don't provoke me, Shepard. Not now. I'm really not in the mood."

He wasn't, she could see that. He was too keyed up from the duel with the other two Spectres, and injured. She knew what the combination of that did to an average turian's mind, but Saren had always been much more stable.  
>There had to be more to it than that.<p>

He suddenly lifted his head, and she could almost see him clamp down on whatever impulse for violence was crossing his mind right now, as he made as if to turn away.

This was wrong. Saren never retreated, or walked away when challenged like that. She hadn't necessary expected an immediate all-out attack, although the possibility had crossed her mind, but she had expected him to lash out at least verbally.  
>That sort of restraint was not normal. Neither was the rest of his behaviour here.<br>It confused her.  
>It was bad enough to try and figure out a human's motivations, but with an alien like him, it was almost useless to even try. Empathy wasn't really one of her talents even at the best of times.<p>

Despite spending more than a year constantly in his presence she had the feeling she didn't know him or understood the way he thought, not really. He was at least as good at hiding his thoughts and motives as she was, probably better, and he had had several more years worth of practice at that. She should have had enough time to learn enough about him to predict his reactions and know what he would and wouldn't do, but that hadn't worked. He knew her better than she knew him, which left her at a severe disadvantage.

The smart move would have been to walk away, file all of this away as something incomprehensible alien and leave it at that. And yet, she was reluctant to do that without at least trying to figure out what this really was about.

She had a real chance at that now.  
>Usually, he was too controlled to give away anything more than he wanted to. At the moment, he already was very close to reaching the limits of that control. If she wanted to see any true reaction of him, she had to push him beyond his ability to reason, get him into a situation where the consequences no longer mattered, or where he no longer cared about them. Rationally, that was a bad idea, of course.<br>They weren't any sort of friends. By any odds that would become a serious fight, and she'd very likely end up hurt. Maybe worse. It was a very real risk.  
>It would also clear this up once and for all. She'd probably not be able to get a verbal explanation out of him, but by his reactions she'd see how far he was willing to go if she gave him a chance to get back at her. It would tell her enough, and it would sort out her own ambivalent impulses regarding him as well.<br>She knew he was dangerous to her. The question was only, how much and how far.  
>Worth the risk, then.<p>

Her tone was deliberately careless. "That's it? You actually are running away? How are you going to rationalise that to yourself? That you care about whether you injure me? Stop lying to yourself and stop being a damned coward."

For a moment he was completely still, and she knew she had scored a hit there. Then something in his expression and his stance changed, and the ripping snarl he gave was a mix of fury and frustration.

Now, she backed off, until her back was to the wall, but he followed, and his hands slammed against the wall left and right of her head roughly at eye level.  
>She blinked, but managed not to flinch away as he hissed at her.<p>

"I will not tolerate mockery from you."

"I wasn't. Not really, anyway." She wasn't sure he had heard.

Maybe she had miscalculated there, she allowed. She had thought she had seem him mad before, but compared to his current mood she probably had only ever seen mild annoyance. This was different.

There were two ways this could go. He was out for blood, and if she responded in kind, that would be it, and it would end with both of them seriously hurt, at best.

There was another way, given that familiarity they had with each other, and the strange restraint he had shown so far, and that was to turn this into some more controlled violence. There were some cues, some hardwired reflexes, and those she knew.

Of course, there also was the option of backing down. Not that it was an option for her, and she didn't even know the gestures for that.

And she knew which way she preferred, and, in fact, even wanted.

She held his gaze and deliberately touched her fingertips to his face, not quite tracing the scratches. It was an ambiguous gesture, challenge as well as invitation, and she couldn't have said which of the two she intended more.

Saren hissed, confused by her apparent lack of fear for a moment. Then his tone turned into something else, something dark and alien that she couldn't place. "This has already gone too far, but you're taking this somewhere that it really shouldn't go. Back down. Stop fighting, or I will make you. And you are not going to like that."

She gave a sharp laugh, devoid of any humour. "Right. Like that threat ever worked with me."

His voice was still this strange tone. "It's not an empty threat. I rarely give first chances. Never a second."

"I know." She did, too. She had no doubt at all that he was serious, and she had seen him kill for a lot less than that.

"Last chance."

Instead of any verbal answer, she lunged forward, grabbed one of his cheek spines and jerked his head to the side. Before he could properly react, she darted in and bit the side of his neck, hard.  
>He screamed, a sound that didn't seem like his voice anymore. It wasn't a sound a human would make, which wasn't a surprise given that he wasn't one, but it wasn't even something that sounded like it would come from a sentient being. Despite that, that sound didn't scare her. Quite the opposite, really. Something inside her, a less civilised part, recognised something familiar in that sound and responded with a primal sort of arousal, a raw, pure animal need, mixed with aggression. She hadn't expected that response of herself, but somehow it seemed right, appropriate.<p>

He tore free and pushed her back hard enough to knock the breath out of her. Then he snarled, still with that undertone to his voice, and clawed at her clothes, fabric ripping under his talons. No time for any niceties like taking her clothes off properly, but that wasn't what was required now.

She instinctively clawed at the fabric of his suit, but he didn't allow any of that and pushed her back, holding her off with one hand while peeling off his suit with the other. She struggled briefly, and he snarled again, lowered his head and clamped his jaws on her shoulder. His teeth sunk through the fabric of her shirt into skin. She made some strange sound, more surprise than pain, and kept still. His grip loosened almost inperceptibly. His hand slid down between her legs, encountered bare skin, and she shuddered. He pressed himself closer to her, grinding himself against her, then his claws traced down her leg. A sudden jerk of his head tipped her off-balance, and his claws gripped her leg, lifted it. He pulled her against him, his tip slowly spreading her open. It was too slow for her taste, and she jerked her leg out of his grip, hooked it over his hip and ground her hips against his.  
>He snarled, letting go of her shoulder as he thrust himself into her, hard.<br>She couldn't bite back a scream and didn't try. It was sudden, and rough, and just perfect. She wasn't in the mood for gentleness, and neither was he, apparently. Fair enough.  
>She crawled up his body, seeking even closer contact, then threw herself against him with her full weight behind it.<br>It took him by surprise, but rather than letting her ruin his balance he turned it into a controlled fall and took the both of them down.

They went in a roll, each of them fighting for dominance. It wasn't that she was actively trying to fight him off, but submission wasn't in her nature, and neither was giving up. The couch broke their roll, and she braced her leg against it, using it as leverage. She was on top of him for a heartbeat, giving him a fierce grin that was answered by a low growl, then he flipped them around, holding her down, continuing to thrust against her. She tried to wrap her other leg around his hips, and he countered that by leaning on her thigh with his knee, trapping her.  
>She moaned and clawed at his neck, and he hissed again and shook her hands off, then pinned her right wrist with a clawed hand.<p>

He ground himself against her, the ridge of his plating sliding against her clit, and she instinctively threw her head back as raw pleasure ran through her nerves.  
>He hissed again, and closed his jaws over her exposed throat.<p>

Her reaction was mindless, pure reflex as she tried to get free. She hadn't been afraid before, but that was too much. She couldn't see, she was trapped. Helpless. It was pure animal instinct that decided her reaction. She clawed at his face in momentary panic with her free hand, felt flesh give under her fingernails and heard him make a deep sound that wasn't quite pain. Then he caught her hand, almost effortlessly, and pinned that, too.

A roll of his hips, and her nerves couldn't seem to decide anymore between fear and lust. For a few seconds she just lay still, panting.  
>Strangely enough, some reason returned.<br>He probably wasn't intending to kill her, or even hurt her. He'd scared the hell out of her with that, but he wasn't really biting her, the tips of his teeth just gently pressing into her skin. This was intended as a reminder, so far.

It probably was some sort of dominance display, something that would have a hardwired response in another turian. Too bad that she had no idea what that response was. She really hoped that he remembered that she was human and didn't have tough skin and plates all over her, but then again, while a turian's skin even at the throat was tougher than a human's, it probably made not much of a difference with the sort of teeth they had. He had to know that, at least.

He moved against her again, and that was something she understood, and wanted. She tried to pull him closer, needing more, the muscles in her leg straining, but he resisted. If the point of this was getting her frustrated, it was working. She was just tiring herself out, neither getting free from him nor getting any closer to the release she needed now.  
>Stop fighting, or I'll make you. That was what he'd said. She wasn't sure he'd meant it that way, at that point, but this still had to be what he was doing.<br>She ground her teeth. They could continue this until one of them broke, and broke badly. Or she could let him have this one. It wasn't really in her nature, but sometimes, very rarely, there were exceptions. Maybe this had to be one.

It was an effort, but she went still. She hated that she couldn't see his reaction, and the way he held her she didn't have enough contact to guess, but maybe that was also the point. He shifted, then gathered both her wrists to pin them with one hand, and she tensed at that, fighting down the natural response to tear free.  
>His free hand trailed down her side, claws brushing skin where her clothes were shredded, and she wasn't sure whether this was intended a threat or a caress, wasn't sure she cared anymore.<p>

She deliberately relaxed, hard as that was, and his weight went off her leg. That was clear enough, and she got the message.

She didn't try to cling to him again, and he slipped his free hand to the small of her back and gathered her close. That gave her the friction she was longing for, and she whimpered. That felt far too good, but of course he knew that. Not enough, though. Her fingers clenched around empty air on their own, and he let her go of her hands, resting his weight on his lower arm. That changed the angle a bit, and she gave a surprised whimper.  
>Apparently he misinterpreted that, because the hold on her throat lessened, until she could barely feel the tips of his teeth.<p>

Loose enough that she could have torn free with maybe a scratch or two showing on her skin.  
>Somehow that told her everything she needed to know. She had gotten some things wrong here. This wasn't about violence, not even about dominance as she had understood it. He didn't want her submission, not in the sense she had been fighting so hard against. In a warped way, this was about trust.<p>

Paradoxically, this was much more frightening than the possibility of physical injury, because this was changing something in her in a fundamental way, if she let it. Sex, when it came down to it, was easy and ultimately meaningless. Trust was neither.  
>She had the option to free herself now, and she was certain he'd let her go. She was also certain that this here would never again be mentioned or repeated. There was one attempt at this only, but he left that choice to her.<br>In the end, it still was a question of courage, of who would quit first. And that was no question at all, really.  
>Damned turian.<p>

She arched against him, leaning into his grip, completely relaxed. Letting him take control, for now. It was a new experience, that at least was certain. She had never tolerated anyone restraining her, never thought she'd ever let anyone do that, let alone some very dangerous alien with unpredictable moods.

She wasn't sure how she'd expected this to go from that point, but she'd at least have assumed that he'd take his time and draw this victory out. He didn't. Almost effortlessly, he shifted his hold on her, changing angle and pressure for maximum effect. He thrust against her in just the right way and speed, that scaly ridge sliding over her clit with every move, and under any other circumstances she would have felt uneasiness that he knew that well just how to touch her. Right now, if anything, it was an advantage. She let herself be held, let herself be taken.  
>Another thrust, and that was enough to drive her over the edge. Her breath was coming in too short gasps to sustain a scream, and all she could manage was a mewling sound as she climaxed, convulsing against him. His breath was hot and just as fast as hers against her throat, but he just kept going, much slower, sending shock after shock through her, and she couldn't keep still anymore. She wrapped her free leg around his hip, rested one hand lightly in the back of his neck, no longer even thinking about it.<p>

He seemed fine with this at this point, and gave a deep, rumbling sound as she stroked the underside of his fringe, and there was no threat at all in that sound, and no aggression either.  
>With a strange sliding roll of his hips, he had her full attention again, and if she had trusted her voice she probably would have begged, but he didn't require that. He didn't need to be told anyway.<br>Her senses narrowed down to the feel of him against her and in her, and raw need that kept building again, impossibly intense. Kept building, eased off for short moments when her body shuddered in reaction, was back in full force with another slide of body against body. She was helpless against the onslaught of sensation, and didn't even care.  
>She lost track of time, lost count of how many times he pushed her over the edge, only to have her back up and ready and wanting more just moments later. She didn't quite lose sense of self, not completely, but somehow it was all pushed back, all the anger and fear and confusion and pride distant and somewhere else, not mattering at the moment. Nothing left with to think, only feel.<br>Too much. Not enough.

She might have said something, maybe a plea, maybe just his name or some wordless, meaningless sound. His reply was again that strange rumble, then he slid against her again, almost gentle, and she arched into him as pleasure crashed over her again. She came hard, the intensity of it so great that she momentarily saw black spots, tremors running through her body as she writhed underneath him. It seemed to go on forever, as she drew breath after shuddering, almost sobbing breath, still unable to get enough air into her lungs.

He was tense against her, the whole line of his body taut, almost waiting, and it convinced her even more that this was some instinctual behaviour and he was waiting for a certain response from her.  
>It wasn't clear-cut and instinctive for her, and she could only try and guess and hope that something in what she did was enough of a response.<br>She tightened her thighs around him, pressing herself up against him, as much contact as she could manage, again stroked the underside of his fringe, and then let her head fall back further, deliberately leaning her throat against his teeth again.

The feel of his teeth against her didn't scare her anymore. It was weird, in a way, and certainly risky, but she had seen stranger kinks even in humans, and if that was what he needed right now, it was fine with her. It was just a gesture, some symbolic leftover of behaviour from some distant animal part that evolution hadn't erased yet. Rationally, it wasn't a good idea to have one's throat in the jaws of someone who had a carnivore's teeth, held a grudge and had some reason to be currently very, very angry with her. Instinct said another thing altogether, that he wasn't going to harm her here and now. Instinct was what she trusted in.

He tightened his grip fractionally, and she leaned into him, encouraging, and caressed the back of his head. His breath caught as he went rigid, and then he let go of her throat and tossed his head back, teeth bared in a silent snarl as he shuddered against her. She held on to him, surprised at the strange soft sound he made, until he quieted and relaxed. He slipped out of her, then let himself sink down on his side.  
>Her legs were still hooked into the hollows of his hips, and she just let herself be pulled with him, feeling too sluggish to let go yet. His hands were on her back, absently stroking her skin, which was just as unexpected as most of this, and felt strangely nice.<br>She rested her forehead against his plated chest, absently noting that his breathing still hadn't gone back to normal. Then again, neither had hers.

She felt drained, physically as well as emotionally, but right now she wasn't even feeling defensive about it. It was strangely peaceful, leaning against a turian whose uncomfortably rough plates were compensated by his high body temperature and who, at the moment at least, decidedly was not her enemy. Her hand still was at the back of his head, stroking the skin there in small, slow circles without any conscious thought from her about it. He wasn't precisely relaxed, as far as she could tell, but his hands were still on her back, and he seemed all right with the contact.

Well. She had pushed him too far to see him at his worst. Granted, she had been the one to turn this from violence into sex, but even so, in all likelihood this should have ended much, much worse. His worst was, apparently, a few scratches and shallow bites, scaring the hell out of her, and then shagging the hell out of her. It was debatable whether the scaring part had been intentional or just matter-of-course, and he hadn't even been mean about the latter. So. He'd had a perfect chance to get back at her, and hadn't taken it, and she was rather certain he'd been beyond thinking at the point. That reaction had been genuine, and come to think of it, so had her own.  
>Her knife was still strapped to her lower arm, where he hadn't even bothered to take it away. She had been frightened by what he'd done, badly, and still she hadn't drawn that blade, hadn't even considered it. She was still there, instead of getting the hell away from him. Her current clothes were ripped, but apart from some shallow scratches and the bite on her shoulder she was fine.<br>Collateral damage aside, he hadn't left any damage worth mentioning on her. Neither of them was given to show that much restraint when feeling threatened or insulted.

She was slow in some things, but not that dense.

She lifted her head to look at him. She couldn't read his expression at all, but his face...she winced. The scratches left by Nysana's claws were open again, two of the deep furrows widened where her own fingernails had cut in. It had been reflex, but she still wished she hadn't done that, and promptly was a bit surprised at herself.

He never had much facial expression even with the parts of his face that weren't cybernetic, but she had learned to read some things in the angle he cocked his head, the tension of the skin around his eyes, or minute changes in the angle and height of his mandibles. She could reliably identify anger, surprise, contempt, mild satisfaction, and the exact moment when his patience was used up and he struck to kill. There was some expression now on his face, but it was a new one and she couldn't place it. She couldn't even properly define it, because as she met his eyes, he closed up again, and she only knew it by its sudden absence.

Saren stared at her, then said with a strangely quiet tone. "I had no intention to let it get that far. I admit I lost my temper. But I will not apologise for that. I gave you fair warning, more than I ever do."

She nodded. "Of course not. I provoked you. Still, you startled me, and I won't apologise for your face. By my count we're about even."

"Fair enough."  
>His tone was still calm, but gradually approaching something more normal. "Shepard, even you don't go provoking someone like me like that without what seems at least to your warped mind a good reason. I can think of several explanations, and all of them are disturbing in various ways."<br>He regarded her again, and she was certain that she had no wish to explain her reasoning, especially as she had the suspicion that he already had a good idea about said reasoning. A rather common taunt from him was that she incapable of being subtle. It wasn't precisely true, but the truth of the matter was that she didn't bother to try, usually. No, chances were that now that his reasoning was back online, he already knew.  
>"I won't even ask what you thought you were trying to do." She blinked in surprise, but he ignored that. "What I do want to know is whether you are going to do that again."<p>

"No." she replied immediately. There was no reason to. Once had been quite enough.

He didn't seem surprised at all. "Then I'll assume whatever question you had is answered, one way or another, and there is no further need to discuss any of this." He didn't add the word 'ever', but his tone more than implied it. He let go of her, rolled over and got to his feet again.

There had been collateral damage to the room, she noted.  
>The wall he'd pushed her against had deep gouges from his claws, and there were scratch marks on the floor as well and a rip in the back of the couch, presumably the work of one of his spurs.<br>She really had to give him that, even half-naked, his face scratched to hell and the evidence of his show of temper around them, he looked no less collected and dignified than ever. And back to distant. Even with her not being too good at interpreting people's reactions, she could recognise a defence mechanism for what it was. She had seen something of him he hadn't been willing to share, and he was trying to do some damage control. Last time it had been the other way around, and it should have given her some satisfaction that it was him this time around who was shaken. Sadly, it didn't. It had become more complicated than that.

"You just came very close to having your face ripped off." he suddenly said, in conversation tone.

Shepard shook her head, and pushed herself up as well, maybe a little less elegant. She was still sore from the duel with Nihlus, and their recent activities hadn't helped in that regard.  
>"Just about as close as you came to getting a knife in your eye." she said, in the same tone. All things considered, that probably wasn't very close at all, for either of them, but she understood the need to save face.<p>

He seemed to consider this, then gave a curt nod, not pushing the subject any further.

Shepard regarded her clothes - or rather, what remained of them - with some displeasure, then dispassionately shrugged them off. Back to the shower it was, for the faint hope that hot water and a good stretch would straighten out the kinks in her spine.  
>In the door to the bathroom, she paused and turned around.<p>

Saren was still standing at the couch, but his hands were on the back rest of the couch, his head slightly lowered. He was clearly unaware that she was still watching, and while it was far from obvious, she could tell he wasn't back to normal, not by a long stretch. The best explanation that she had was that she'd triggered some instinctual behaviour in him, something he hadn't expected, and this was eating at him. There was no way to know whether it was just the fact that he had lost control that bothered him or the way he had done so, or something else entirely, but the fact remained that he was badly shaken. It wasn't precisely shame, but there was shock, something raw and unguarded again in his expression that she still couldn't name, but something she was very certain she was not supposed to see.

She deliberately turned her back again, walked into the shower and turned on the water.  
>She didn't try to think yet; she finished cataloguing her own minor scrapes, then got out, wrapped herself in a towel and broke out the med pack.<br>The bite over her shoulder was clean enough and not very deep, so she put on some medigel and forgot about it. Then she left the shower to Saren, went back to her own room, got herself dressed in something loose and informally civilian for a change and sat on the bed, thinking.

After a few moments, she started swearing under her breath, low but heart-felt. It was a credit to her military background and her extensive vocabulary that it took quite some time until she ran out of applicable phrases and came into danger of repeating herself.

Pure violence or just rough sex she could have dealt with and put it behind her, and by now she would have regained her mental equilibrium. This, whatever it really had been, had left something in her raw and strange and confused, and it had apparently cut both ways. She didn't know what to to with that. She was exhausted, ached all over, there was a kink in her back that wouldn't let go, and in some ways she was more confused than ever, and some other things had become quite clear.

And she was hiding, and she never did that. This was quite unbearable.  
>Damn him.<br>Shepard gathered up a medkit as some sort of peace offering, then marched over to Saren's room.  
>He hadn't bothered to lock the door, which saved her the trouble of hacking it.<p>

Saren was back in that black uniform, stretched out on his bed, half-curled up on his side, which probably indicated that he was just as sore.  
>She couldn't have told any of that from the perfectly normal, irritated way he lifted his head. "What is it that do you want now?"<p>

She held up the medkit. "I just thought you'd like someone halfway competent fixing up your face again, instead of the awful job you did before."

He snarled, the insulted variant that could safely be ignored, at least when he didn't have weapon in hand and already was aiming, but he sat up again and offered no further violence as she sat down beside him. His face really looked a mess, and that was saying something given the way he usually looked. Cleaned out and up-close, the scratches looked even worse. Shepard set out to work with medigel to seal the scratches and the small white pieces of sticky stuff that looked like adhesive tape but actually fused into a turian's plates to hold edges of wounds together where normal bandages were impractical. Most of the scratches were easy to close up, at least, but one that ran down his nose was too ripped to align properly. She tried her best, knowing that she'd at least added to that one with her own nails.  
>It was still a hack job, she felt, but better than anything he'd have done himself. "The one on your nose will probably scar." she told him, then stretched her back again. No luck, that kink was still there.<br>She leaned to one side, trying to find a more comfortable position.

Saren just shrugged, disinterested. "Are you done?" As she didn't reply, he snorted, drawing breath to say something that probably was extremely unfriendly, if she judged the way be held his head correctly, but then his attention sharpened. His tone was irritated, though. "What's wrong with your back?"

That put her off-balance for a moment. "Must have wrenched something at some point."

He shook his head. "Lie down." He shifted aside, making room for her on the bed.

She frowned, but was too tired to argue as she stretched herself out. She still flinched when he touched her back, but his annoyed growl at that had an almost calming effect on her. "Stop fidgeting, it gives me a headache." His hands trailed down her spine, certain and almost clinical. He lingered over the spot that was giving her trouble, then suddenly pushed down with the heel of his hands, and something in her back realigned with an audible crack. She cursed automatically, even though it had been painless, and he growled again, warningly, and continued his way down. Another push, a more faint crack, and the tension in her spine was gone.  
>He gave a snort that was half exasperation and half satisfaction, and withdrew his hands.<p>

Shepard rolled on her side to be able to look at him. He was staring down at her, and this time his expression gave nothing away at all. She was too tired to play games. The tension and pain in her back was gone, but so was the rest of her energy.  
>"Where are you going after this?"<p>

The question seemed to surprise him, but he answered readily enough. "Back to the 'Veil, probably, if the Council doesn't have other orders. I've been meaning to check some more exposed sites for geth activity."

"That sounds like fun, too." she said slowly, wondering whether she gotten this completely wrong. He hadn't explicitly denied that he was jealous. He had just denied that he cared who or what she took to bed with her, and that she had believed. Until now she had assumed he wanted her gone. Maybe the exact opposite was true. There was only one way to find out.

"Mind if I come along?"

He stared at her, and she couldn't read his expression at all. Not pleased, not angry, nothing at all. "Not on principle, no." he said, flatly. "I can't estimate how long I'll be out there, though. It might be a longer mission that you are used to."

She shrugged. "That's fine. Short time assignments aren't really worth my while anyway."

"What about your pirate-hunting trip?"

She considered. "If you're in the mood for a detour back to the 'Veil, we could do some pirate-hunting together. Between the four of us, I think we could do some real damage. If not, then it's shooting geth."

She still couldn't read anything in his expression, and her patience with this ran out.  
>"This is ridiculous." she said. "Let's try to keep this simple, too. Do you want me to stay around?"<p>

His mandibles twitched, as much as they could. "Yes," he ground out, voice gravelly as if the act of speaking hurt him physically.

"Is that why you were in a constant bad mood for weeks now? And why you were even worse after the match?"

His voice was as expressionless as his face. "I think we could make a decent team." It wasn't a direct answer, to her questions, but it was more than enough. It didn't matter whether they even could be friends or casual lovers or not, although she suspected however this ended, their interaction would never be casual. Whatever confusing cultural or emotional influences there were, those were of no consequence here, either. This was an offer to travel the galaxy together, kick arse and keep each other's backs clear of enemy fire. The odds for survival were higher that way, and survival was something she understood. About everything else, there was no need to figure it out here and now.

She stared at him, sorely tempted to grab his fringe and shake some sense into his head, although she knew she didn't quite dare to put this into action. "Why not just say so, then? Maybe give me a hint, instead of making be believe you want me gone as quickly as possible?"

"Self-preservation." he quoted back her own words at her.

Shepard shook her head again, torn between amusement and annoyance. It made some warped sense now.  
>He wouldn't ask, not directly, either because of some personal hangup or something cultural, but whatever the precise reason for his very uncharacteristic hesitation, it was something he apparently couldn't get around here and now.<p>

He had been trying to keep his distance just as she had, and failed just the same. He'd probably even convinced himself that she'd never trust him enough to work as a team with him, so it wouldn't matter if she left. Having that proven wrong by their match against the other two Spectres must have made things a lot worse for him. And so she'd pushed him, and he'd snapped, and although they probably both had done their best to make it seem otherwise, they apparently were incapable of deliberately hurting each other. "Maybe you got it right. We affect each other equally."

He didn't reply, and she suppressed a sigh. This really was ridiculous.

Trying to force him to say anything more would be petty and not hold much satisfaction to her either. He hadn't tried to make her beg or to humiliate her. She would just return the courtesy.  
>After all, they were more alike than she had allowed for. It was only that their hangups were different. This wasn't one of hers, though, so she could take this one, then.<p>

She shrugged, easily, keeping her tone light. "I'd get bored alone soon enough anyway. And I wouldn't settle for less than the best for company, and as much as it pains me to admit it that means you. Guess I'll stay, then." Something relaxed in the set of his shoulders, but it was subtle, easy to miss. "You're welcome to stay, if that's your choice. I seem to have built up a certain tolerance to your presence. And I'm not opposed to giving our fellow Spectres a hand before going back to the 'Veil."

"Good. So that's settled, too. Pirates first, then geth." She rolled on her back again, fatigue setting in. As hard to admit as it was, she needed rest. She closed her eyes, only for a moment.  
>A claw poked at her side, and she indignantly opened her eyes. Saren was still looking at her, looking mildly irritated. Or else, trying to do his best to appear irritated. It was hard to tell.<p>

"Am I to understand that you're, once again, too exhausted to move?" he asked, his tone giving the implication that that was what he expected from a fragile, annoying human anyway.

She could have left it at that or responded in kind, but she was, maybe, just too exhausted for that.  
>"No. But rather comfortable where I am and not going to move anyway, thank you for asking."<p>

He was still for a split second, his normal reaction to surprise outside of combat, but his tone was as ever, mildly annoyed.  
>"You probably aren't aware of it, but you are still in my bed" he pointed out.<p>

She closed her eyes again. "That might happen from time to time if I stay around. Learn to live with it."

There was a rasping sound from him that her tired mind took a moment to translate. He was laughing. She had heard him laugh before, once or twice, but there had been bitterness or cruelty to the sound before. This was neither, only genuine amusement.  
>His display of mirth was brief, but unmistakable. From the way the mattress moved, she could tell he had stretched himself out again. Shepard rolled to her side again, unthinkingly leaning into him, and only wondered about it after the fact. It certainly wasn't desire that made her reach for him now, but there was some other need she was too tired to try to identify.<p>

He growled, some low sound that seemed more reflex at the sudden touch than anything else, but his hand came up on her back, drawing her close, and that felt right somehow. He was warm even through his suit and the fabric kept his plates from scratching her skin, which was an improvement, but his keel-bone was still too pronounced to be comfortable, and she prodded it, drawing a rather weak approximation of his usual irritated rumble from him. "You're still too spiky to make a good pillow."

Saren didn't even bother to growl. "If you're staying around, you might want to get used to it."

"Fair enough." she murmured, not sure herself to what she was referring to, but the details didn't matter. Something had been defined on more than one level, some boundaries set and mutually acknowledged.

She shifted slightly until she found a position where his keel-bone didn't disturb her anymore. It wasn't a perfect fit, and probably couldn't be, given their differences in shape and species and everything else, but it worked. Somehow, his hand ended up on her hip again, but she didn't dispute it.  
>As with everything else, it was an acceptable compromise.<p> 


End file.
